


Day 6: The Call

by LtLime23



Series: August MEFFW Challenge [6]
Category: Hatchet - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Poetry, Survival, Wilderness, wild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 19:57:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11721462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LtLime23/pseuds/LtLime23
Summary: Day 6 of the Month of Fanfiction challenge.Prompt: A fandom you love but never write for.Hatchet is a young adult novel by Gary Paulsen and centres around thirteen year old Brian Robeson, who, following a plane crash in the remote Canadian wilderness must learn to survive with only a hatchet at his disposal.  There are five books in the series the final one being, Hatchet: The Call.Having only just started writing I was hesitant to branch out of the Mass Effect fandom that I know so well. In the spirit of the challenge I wanted to push myself further, what follows is a poem which essentially tells the story of The Call.





	Day 6: The Call

**Author's Note:**

> Day 6 of the Month of Fanfiction challenge.
> 
> Prompt: A fandom you love but never write for.
> 
> Hatchet is a young adult novel by Gary Paulsen and centres around thirteen year old Brian Robeson, who, following a plane crash in the remote Canadian wilderness must learn to survive with only a hatchet at his disposal. There are five books in the series the final one being, Hatchet: The Call.
> 
> Having only just started writing I was hesitant to branch out of the Mass Effect fandom that I know so well. In the spirit of the challenge I wanted to push myself further, what follows is a poem which essentially tells the story of The Call.

Choking, clawing, polluted last breath,  
the city a beast all snarl and bite.  
The squawk of yellow gulls, horns pressed,  
fighting, over the last raised arm,  
whisking them away, cocooned, at rest.  
Swallow me whole, called the wild.

A schooling in emptiness, you left,  
connections broken, hold me, just once?  
Souls pressed inwards, oozing regret,  
Secrets locked safe, a promise, a prize.  
Tormented by stillness, hard to forget,  
Loneliness a killer, called the wild.

Preparations, planning, a ritual of peace,  
sturdy yet soft, between fingers so deft.  
A paddle, compass, tent and fleece,  
lists endless, it should be simple, no?  
Sigh, relax, choice makes us weak.  
Your essence is man, called the wild.

A molten sunset, reflected times two,  
bow waves echoing, lapping hello.  
Whispers of summer, fresh, new,  
sweet on the tongue, kiss, embrace.  
Finally, stillness, raw, primal who knew?  
Solitude is your saviour, called the wild.


End file.
